Bellamy the Beautiful
by Hi Pot And News
Summary: AU Male!Bella. Slighty cracky. Bellamy wasn't sure what the ginger's problem was but he wasn't going to let some broody douche get him down. So Bellamy had accidentally stabbed him in the thigh, so what? It wasn't like it was on purpose and the guy had been making a face that was plain asking for it. He was just sulking that he wasn't as spicy as Emmett.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **Hello, all! Here's another fic I came up with when I should have been updating others! To the Twihards, hello, this was the fandom that introduced me to fanfiction, I hope you don't hate it too much. To my followers that wonder what the hell I'm thinking, don't worry, I'm not forgetting my other stories, this is something I wrote to get get my juices flowing.

Please don't take this story too seriously as I'm more of a humor writer than anything else.

* * *

**W**hen Bellamy was born, no one had been expecting him. Every ultrasound his parents had gotten said he would be a girl. His mother was ecstatic, daydreaming about all the fun she'd get up to when her daughter was a bit older. His father had dithered about, painting the nursery pastel colours and stocking up on plush toys, bragging to his friends at work how he'd spoil his little princess. They planned on naming him Isabella Marie, Isabella after the Spanish queen that funded Columbus, and Marie after his maternal grandmother.

When Bellamy came out a boy, they scrambled to catch up.

"What was the point of all those ultrasounds if none of them were right?" his father griped.

"Forget the ultrasounds, we can't name a boy Isabella Marie!"

The name Bellamy was suggested right off the bat, his mother actually having tossed a coin before to decide between that and Isabella. Beauregard was added afterward when his mother was struck by a fit of fancy at seeing her baby open his eyes for the first time. It was a combination that could be argued was too fancy for a small town in Washington but it stuck all the same. The small family returned to their cozy little house in the rainy town of Forks far happier than they had left.

Unfortunately, that happiness didn't stick around. Bellamy's mother, Renée, had a wandering soul, and had been on the cusp of drifting off again when she fell pregnant. She had fought on and off with Charlie about living in Forks, bemoaning the dullness of small-town life when the excitement of a baby on the way caught all her attention. Suffice to say baby Bellamy couldn't hold off his mother's wanderlust forever; three months after being born, Bellamy was carted off to California and his parents divorced.

"Just let me _go_, Charlie!" Renée exclaimed, balancing Bellamy on one hip as she threw open the door. Her bags were already in the car, a pack of over-night clothes and toiletries on her shoulder. She sounded exhausted and exasperated. "It didn't work out, okay? I really, really _hate _Forks!"

With that she walked out the door, not even once looking back. When given time to think on it, _that _was what stopped Charlie from chasing after her.

Bellamy's early childhood was spent at his grandmother's house while Renée was off getting a degree in teaching. Marie Higginbotham was a hard woman, but there was no denying that she doted on Bellamy. Marie was the one to teach him to walk, to talk, and eventually to read as well. For whatever reason, Marie got along with her grandson far more easily than with her daughter.

He was a sickly child, he had a weak constitution and often caught colds which usually meant he was too sick to go to school. When his attendance was spotty at best only during kindergarten, it was decided that he'd be home-schooled instead. Marie was a retired widow who lived comfortably on the cushy nest-egg her late husband had accumulated, and Renée — though a kindergarten teacher at the time — attracted men who thought nothing of spending money on her. Between the two women in his life, Bellamy was not neglected in any aspect of his up-bringing.

There had been a few awkward weeks of readjustment when Bellamy was six or seven when Renée moved them out from her mother's house and into Phoenix, Arizona, but they eventually situated themselves again, Bellamy being a low-maintenance child now that he wasn't getting sick as often as before and Renée being the flexible type. Bellamy was able to keep being home-schooled when Renée started dating some well-to-do guy named Stephan that pretty much decided that Renée was the one for him and that he wanted her to be a stay-at-home mom. It didn't last of course — Stephan was far too straight-laced for Renée's tastes — but by the time they broke up, Bellamy was around eleven and in Renée's mind, old enough to stay home alone when she was at work; all he had to do was stay inside and never answer the door, easy.

It seemed as if he had always known Renée was the flighty sort, and maybe in response to that Bellamy ended up being a lot more level-headed than one would expect of him. Oh, sure, he was still a bit of a ditz in personality — one didn't have Renée as a main role model without catching a few quirks — but there was no denying that Bellamy was no fool. He kept track of his mother's hobby of the week, her appointments, and kept the house organized enough that he always knew where she flung her keys and purse. When he could reach the stove, he taught himself how to cook, no longer satisfied with the mystery meals Renée whipped up or the take-out they'd order when she admitted that whatever it was she had created seemed to have formed its own sentience and was trying to escape.

When he was old enough to be put under the care of a flight attendant, Bellamy was sent to spend the occasional holiday with his father as well as most of the summers. Charlie was often more fussy than absolutely necessary when it came to taking care of his son. Bellamy was not as physically strong as the other boys his age and was also asthmatic, albeit only mildly. There had been many a panicked trip to the hospital over a fit of coughing and wheezing, and even though the doctors assured him that having a sit down and a few puffs on the inhaler would have Bellamy right as rain again, Charlie couldn't help but treat Bellamy with kid gloves.

Charlie's house was meticulously cleaned whenever Bellamy came to visit and activities that wouldn't cause hard panting were thought up. Fishing was good, as were a few rounds of catch. Football and baseball was right out but yoga was a thing, right? Or was it called pilates? It rankled Charlie's masculine pride doing something he categorized as city-girl nonsense, but if he wanted a method of exercise that wouldn't irritate Bellamy's lungs he didn't have many choices. So when it was just the two of them for the day, Charlie would pop in a pilates video and they'd bumble into positions, laughing all the while. Bellamy definitely inherited Charlie's lack of grace.

"We will never speak of this, Beau," Charlie had said solemnly. It had been their first try at it and they were collapsed on their exercise mats.

Bellamy snickered helplessly but nodded, too sore to verbalize.

Since he didn't attend public schooling, Bellamy never meshed well with kids his own age. It was not so much that they didn't get along but more that he didn't understand why they were so hung up on things he thought didn't matter at all. This disconnect resulted in him never having any real friends even though he did hang out with people. If asked, he would say that his mother was his best friend, and oddly enough that really was what they were. Renée tried to be a good example and be responsible, but it just wasn't in her natural disposition to do so; instead of mother and son, it was more like older sister taking care of baby brother.

While Bellamy wrote off many aspects of childhood as frivolous, one of the crazes he did understand was skateboarding. Skateboarding, rollerblading, and anything else that involved wheels really. Oddly enough, his lack of coordination didn't translate to skateboarding, and Bellamy won many hangout buddies with his skill. It wasn't eternal companionship that would last beyond a lifetime but it was social interaction all the same.

During the summer before Bellamy turned twelve, Charlie was forced to acknowledge a truth he had pointedly ignored since Bellamy had grown out of babyhood. It had punched him in the face when he met his son at the airport and saw the new, longer hairstyle the boy was trying out: Bellamy did not look like a boy. It wasn't just the androgyny of childhood either — though it was true the boy was baby-faced — Bellamy was simply a _very_ pretty boy, pretty enough that several women at the diner they ate at that night had complimented him on having such a beautiful daughter.

Charlie was at a loss for what to do. He had no trouble with the fact that Bellamy would likely never be manly, he had accepted that since he knew that the boy's medical history would never let him be the sporty type. What Charlie worried about though was how being pretty would affect Bellamy mentally. Forks was not exactly a progressive town, and he didn't want to think about what could happen if some the ignorant yahoos that lived nearby bullied Bellamy for not being like them. Kids could be mean and Bellamy wasn't self-confident enough yet to brush off put-downs.

After talking about it with Renée, they decided that they'd all be better off if father and son met up at Marie's house for visits. Marie didn't care much for Charlie — she had disapproved of the marriage — but she agreed to host them when Charlie could take a few weeks off for vacation since that meant she saw more of Bellamy as well. Bellamy did pop up to Forks again once or twice but never during the summer.

All visits dropped off altogether though when Marie died. There was a bout of zero communication for a while. After Renée and Bellamy had composed themselves from their grief, Bellamy took to calling Charlie every few days in place of face-to-face interaction.

Renée's romantic heart finally caught up to her when Bellamy encouraged her to find a nice guy. After going through a few casual dates, she eventually struck gold when Bellamy was fifteen. She started seeing a minor league baseball player by the name of Phil Dwyer and they got on like a house on fire. She swooned and sighed and talked Bellamy's ear off about him, a dreamy expression on her face all the while. It was obvious she had it bad.

Phil tried his best but it was clear to Bellamy that the older man wasn't sure what to do with him. Phil grew up with older brothers who were just as rough and tumble as he was; he didn't know how to interact with a teenage boy that was artsy and studious instead, especially one that he had initial mistook for a girl. That had been an awkward moment for him though Renée and Bellamy had just brushed it off and laughed. Phil and Bellamy thought well of each other by the time the older man proposed to Renée, but they never clicked.

It was when Phil and Renée were finally married that Bellamy had to make a choice. Phil traveled for work and that meant moving from Phoenix. Renée was all for seeing more of the world, but truth be told Bellamy didn't see himself fitting into the picture. He loved his mother but he was pretty certain everyone involved would be a lot happier if he moved to Forks instead. This was Renée's chance to have a successful marriage and she needed to try it with a clean slate.

"You don't have to do this, Bell," Renee had said, urging him to reconsider.

He did have to do it though. He had seen how down in the dumps she had been when Phil flew off and she had to stay in Phoenix to take care of Bellamy while he took elective classes at the local high school. He finally put his foot down two and a half months into the school year when Phil's birthday came up and the couple had to settle for a phone call. It was ridiculous for them to be apart when there was such a simple solution. In any case, he had missed his father and spending the next few years before he went off to college with Charlie would be no hardship.

"It'll be fine, Mom," Bellamy said for must have been the hundredth time. He pulled her into a hug. "I've missed hanging out with Dad anyways. I'll email you when I get there."

Renée reluctantly let go, squeezing her boy's hand as she did.

It was with a grin on his face and bright wave to his mother that he boarded his flight. Five hours in the air, an hour drive from Port Angeles, and he'd be home-free.

* * *

**B**ouncing out from the baggage claim area, a skinny little teenager scanned the crowd for a familiar face. It wasn't very crowded that day and he stood out like a bum at an operahouse in his over-sized burnt-orange parka, dragging along a heavily decorated suitcase set and a cello case the colour of ketchup. His eyes lit up with glee when they landed on a mustached police officer awkwardly leaning against a pillar. At once, he bee-lined for the cop, his clunky messenger bag thumping against his leg.

"Dad!" he cried, climbing the man like a tree in his haste to hug the life out of his father.

Said man nearly staggered under the sudden weight.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, catching the boy before he could slip off. "Easy there, Beau, you don't want to crack your head open, do you?"

"Pfft, you wouldn't drop me. I was more likely to brain myself unloading my carry-on than right now."

"All the same," the older man said, placing his son safely on the ground again. "Let's get your stuff to the car before we have to make a run for the emergency room."

Bellamy grinned but complied, returning to where he had ditched his trolley. Others greeted each other as they moseyed toward the exit, reflexively parting to leave a good chunk of space between them and the loud luggage. Bellamy yanked at the handle, getting the wheels that tended to jam used to movement again before he pushed it forward.

Charlie took control of the trolley when it was in grabbing distance and lead the way to where the car was parked.

"I get picked up in the cruiser?" Bellamy exclaimed when he saw where Charlie was leading them. "Totally badass!"

"Don't swear," Charlie admonished absently, loading the suitcases into the trunk. He eyed the remaining space. "I don't think this cello's going to fit here."

"Just lay it across the back seat," Bellamy replied, opening a back door. "But seriously, this is _way_ cool. Could you cuff me? I wanna stage a break out when we reach town."

Charlie gave Bellamy a flat look that said exactly what he thought of such an idea.

"The last time you played with my handcuffs, we ended up having to remove the steering wheel altogether and find a locksmith to break the lock." The mustached man heaved the instrument into the backseat where it did indeed fit perfectly. He closed the door smartly and ducked into the driver's seat. "Who knows what might happen if you get your hands on them again."

Bellamy plopped into the passenger seat and crossed his arms petulantly.

"That was years ago!"

"The answer's still no. And I don't even want to think about what they'd think of you if you go flinging yourself out of a police cruiser, hand-cuffed or not."

Bellamy whined in protest as was usual for his age-group but it was more for propriety than actual disappointment.

They settled into a comfortable silence as they left the airport, neither one of them the type to blather on when it wasn't needed. Bellamy dozed a bit, drifting in an out of sleep, cracking his eyes open every so often when road signs caught his attention. He was brought fully back into consciousness when Charlie pulled into a restaurant just beyond the sign announcing their arrival into Forks proper.

The restaurant was one of those old-fashioned numbers, the kind retirees ate brunch in and truckers popped in for a warm meal at after refueling at the gas station on the other side of the road. The first step in brought the smell of grilling meat and potatoes wafting over them, teasing Bellamy's belly into waking up. He hadn't had anything to eat that day beyond a couple of yogurts at breakfast since he had slept through lunch on the plane.

The waitress was a sweet-faced middle-aged woman. She greeted Charlie familiarly and brought them over to a table next to the window, Charlie's usual spot from the way he almost glided into place. She took their drink orders and left them with a pair of menus.

"I'm ready to eat my weight in meat," Bellamy said, almost drooling over the burger choices listed before him.

Charlie snorted. He took a sip of his Coca-cola and set his menu down.

"I thought you were a vegetarian."

"When have I ever been a vegetarian?" Bellamy glanced up and pulled a face.

"Didn't you say a few weeks ago that you were trying out some new meat-free diet?"

"Not me. And I didn't say vegetarian. _Mom_ was the one trying to go vegan. I on the other hand was rolling around in fried chicken when she wasn't looking."

"What's the difference?"

"Um, I think vegetarians still eat things like milk and eggs, and do it more for the health benefits while vegans don't eat _any _animal products and stay away from things made from animals like clothes made from fur or leather. There's not that much of a difference I think but apparently people get super nit-picky about being called the proper term."

"Well, vegan or vegetarian, I don't know how anyone could say no to a juicy burger."

"Is that your order, then?" the waitress said, reappearing with a notepad in her hands. She quirked her lips in a smile and raised her eyebrows. "You usually get the fried shrimp on Tuesdays."

"Yes, please," Charlie nodded. "The cheeseburger. Dealing with Beau always gets me too tired to deal with silverware."

"Hey!" Bellamy protested, mock offense on his face. He looked at the waitress and grinned. "Could I get the barbecue bacon burger with no coleslaw and some chili cheese onion rings?"

The waitress paused. She looked Bellamy over with a cautious eye.

"Are you sure, sweetheart? That's a lot of food."

Bellamy just nodded.

"And some jalapenos on the onions rings too, if you have them."

"Alright," she replied, gathering their menus. "I'll have that out for you in just a few minutes."

"She's right, you know," Charlie said, "That _is_ a lot of food. Are you sure you'll finish it?"

Bellamy gulped down half of his glass of Sprite and smirked challengingly at Charlie.

"Don't underestimate me, I'll eat it all and have room to spare."

"Five bucks says you won't." The challenge was said loudly and drew the attention of those near them, particularly the truckers at the bar. Sly glances were exchanged and they nodded at each other.

"You're on. I'll even finish mine before you do yours!"

When their food arrived, the two fell onto their meals like wolves tearing into the belly of a deer. Charlie did the men of Forks proud, not pausing once as he chewed, only breathing through his nose when he was certain he wouldn't choke. It would've won any other contest if his opponent hadn't been his son.

Bellamy appeared to barely chew at all as he gnawed through the artery-clogging wad of meat in front of him. Chomp, chomp, swallow. Chomp, chomp, swallow. That was the pace he maintained as burger and onion rings were shoved into the black hole that was his mouth. He scarfed it down like he was storing up food for winter.

The other customers that sat in their section of the diner watched covertly in amazement as the undersized twig of a teenager all but gobbled his meal whole. When Bellamy pulled back from his empty plate and fell back against his seat with a thud, knocking back the rest of his drink, they applauded and cheered, some even getting to their feet for a standing ovation. Money was exchanged

Charlie looked up incredulously and sighed in defeat at seeing his son's plate all but licked clean. He glanced mournfully down at his 3/4 eaten burger. So close! How had the boy finished his as well as those onion rings so fast?

He made a sour face as Bellamy got to his feet and played to his audience, bowing and waving grandly.

"Shoulda known you'd eat like your mother."

* * *

**T**he next morning, Bellamy woke up early to have time to make breakfast before he left for school. Charlie's cooking was as abysmal as Renée's, and if it hadn't been for the few diners dashed around town he would've been living off of the fish he caught on his fishing trips with Billy and ordered pizza. It was extremely unhealthy, and the least Bellamy could do in thanks for letting him move in was to prepare meals that wouldn't have them in an early grave from a heart attack at fifty.

They had bumbled home later last evening, lazy and sleepy from their full stomachs. They moved Bellamy's things from the car into his room but nothing was really unpacked beyond the bathroom stuff and pajamas he'd had in his messenger bag. He'd fallen asleep as soon as he set his alarm and didn't wake up again until he almost fell out of bed at having the alarm blaring in his ear. Bellamy had never used an alarm clock before, the elective classes he took being in the afternoon, and he was not at all pleased to know that it was worse than he had expected.

He shuffled like a zombie to the shower and violently woke himself up when he forgot to turn the tap for hot water on. It was only his hope to not wake Charlie that stopped him from howling at the freezing temperature. Oh, God, he might have just given himself frostbite!

Tip-toeing back to his room, Bellamy threw on a long-sleeved cotton shirt and a pair of loose, faded jeans. He looked like he was trying out for a Backstreet Boys music video, all fluttering white clothes, so he pulled a graphic tee over it as well. He fiddled with his hair for a bit, pulling it back in a way that it didn't flutter into his eyes, before he deemed himself fit to be seen in public and popped down into the kitchen.

The smell of coffee and French toast was what woke Charlie in the end. The older man made his way into the kitchen all bleary eyed though he had already washed and dressed and plopped into a seat at the little table on the other side of the kitchen counter. He sighed in appreciation when a mug of coffee was presented to him and finally opened his eyes completely when the caffeine was pumping. He was about to verbalize his gratitude when the sight of his son made him pause.

Bellamy was fluttering around the kitchen in an apron Charlie hadn't known he'd owned. Without the parka he had worn the night before, he looked even smaller, skinny wrists on display as he had pushed up his sleeves to keep them from getting dirty. His pants pooled at his feet, obviously made for someone taller and the shirt wasn't much better, the collar wide enough to slip around, shifting to one side to reveal a bit of shoulder. The whole outfit made him look like he was playing dress-up with his older brother's clothes. What took the cake though was Bellamy's hair. When had it gotten so long? Charlie had never seen it so long before. The boy had it up in a strange braid that sort of looked like a mohawk from the side.

"What are you wearing?" Charlie asked when his mouth caught up to his brain.

Bellamy looked up from where he was moving a slice of egg-soaked bread into butter. He looked down at himself and frowned.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked.

"They're so big on you! And what have you done to your hair?"

The boy in question rolled his eyes as he spooned fruit topping onto a plate of already finished toast and set it in front of Charlie. He picked up another plate of food and sat across from his father as he dug in.

"I didn't exactly have many clothes warm enough for northern America. Phil gave me some hand-me-downs when me and mom were thinking about getting new clothes."

Charlie grunted at hearing Phil's name.

"And the hair?"

"Jeez, I'm growing it out for charity! I used to get haircuts all the time since it grows like weeds but now I cut it once a year and send it to Locks of Love for those kids with cancer that can't grow their own."

Charlie nodded slowly at this.

"That's nice of you. I didn't know you did that."

Bellamy chewed on a chunk of apple and nodded.

"I used to play with this kid who had a cousin with cancer. He grew his hair out too and I figured that since I was just going to chop it off anyways, I might as well cut it when it's long enough to make into a wig."

"Why do you have it like that though?"

"Do you not like it?" Bellamy flicked the tail of the braid over his shoulder and held it out the side. "A girl in my Spanish class taught me ways to style it so it wasn't always in my face or shoved inside a cap. This one's a fishtail fauxhawk braid. I thought it looked kind of cool."

"Well, I suppose you would know." Charlie wasn't an expert on fashion. The style of dress in Forks was pretty low maintenance even with the high school girls, only ever getting done up for things like parties and prom. If Bellamy said his braided fishhawk or whatever it was called was fashionable, Charlie would believe him. And it wasn't as if Charlie thought it looked bad, it was just that he was once again slapped in the face with how pretty his boy was, long hair only adding onto it. He thought Bellamy would have grown out of it by now but the opposite seemed to have happened.

Maybe it was time to brush off the ol' shotgun, Charlie thought, watching as Bellamy absentmindedly twirled his hair. After all, times were changing and people were more progressive nowadays. He had heard from Billy about his son-in-law having a younger brother that was seeing another boy. Apparently such things were becoming common. What if some boy up at that school took a liking to Bellamy? What if Bellamy came home one day with some meathead that only wanted to get into his pants?

No, not his sweet little boy! Charlie was beginning to panic. He had thought he was safe from such worries when his kid came out a male! What if Bellamy brought home a boy? How was he supposed to fend of no-good boys when his own kid was a boy? What if he brought home a _girl _and she turned out to be a lesbian because she thought he was a girl as well? It wasn't like guys expected their fathers to scare off girl/boyfriends. Hell, how was he supposed to keep them away from his kid without coming off as homophobic?

"I'll come with you today!" Charlie blurted, just managing to keep hysteria out of his voice.

"Hmm?" Bellamy looked and blinked in confusion.

Charlie could only curse mentally. Did he have to be so cute?

Put away those doe eyes, Beau, Charlie thought. They will only lead to your ruin.

"I'm heading out in that direction anyways," Charlie said as nonchalantly as he could manage. He clearly didn't manage well enough, judging by the way Bellamy narrowed his eyes. "The school's easy to miss so I'll just show you the way. If we have enough time, we could get your schedule together as well."

Bellamy obviously knew something was up but it was equally obvious that he had no idea what it was. When he could think of no reason to not go along with Charlie's plan, he agreed. Charlie internally jumped with joy; his plan to keep Bellamy from falling victim to his own thoughtlessly feminine wiles was a go!

"I'll just go get my bag then."

The boy cleared away the table and dashed up the stairs. When he came back down, Charlie was pulling on his uniform jacket and checking his gun. Bellamy had returned with zip-up hoodie on, his enormously large messenger bag slung across his shoulders, and a skateboard clutched in one hand.

Charlie frowned in confusion when he saw the skateboard.

"Where was that? I didn't see it with your other stuff."

Bellamy opened the front door and stepped out.

"It was in this bag; I didn't trust them not to break it in the cargo hold."

Charlie unlocked the car and slipped inside.

"Wasn't that cello your carry-on? I thought you were only allowed to have one."

Bellamy smiled slyly, tapping his nose.

"Purses don't count as carry-on. A little batting of the eyelashes and they thought I was a chick and let me bring it with me."

Charlie deflated a bit. Maybe he wasn't as thoughtless as Charlie thought.

* * *

**AN: **To those new to my stories, don't expect fast updates. On top of this being an underdeveloped plot-bunny and me being a shameful procrastinator, Twilight just isn't my fandom.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Alright, I lied. This was a fairly quick update for me. Ah, but don't get used to it! No, no, the speed is a lie, I'll likely let this sit for a few weeks after this.

* * *

**F**orks' high school was perhaps the least school-like thing Bellamy had ever seen. It was just off the highway and if it hadn't been for the sign declaring it so, he would have passed right by it if it had been him who was driving. The enchained area designated as school property extended half a block in both width and length with an honest-to-God _forest_ in the back. More of the space was taken up by grass and trees than actual building and with the way it was built — looking like a couple of maroon colored brick houses decided to pop out some babies — it put him more in the mind of an assisted living center than a place of learning.

It was a nice change from the confining feel of institution back in Phoenix. No chain-link fences, no metal detectors, no cops on duty to make sure some whack-job didn't shoot up the school. It was a freeing really. Bellamy didn't do well at his previous high school with its heavily monitored system, even if it was only for a few classes in the afternoon. Here there was no choking pressure.

"Still looks like where they'd stick me when I'm one foot in the grave," he muttered, eying the building as they pulled in. They parked in front of the first building, which had a sign that said front office. No one else was parked there so it was probably off limits. Not that off limits meant anything when he was pulling up with the law beside him.

"What was that?' Charlie asked. He peered through the slightly fogged glass and rain, also eying the building but likely not for the same reason Bellamy was.

Bellamy unbuckled himself and got out, pulling his hood up as he did.

"I said it looks like a place funeral homes would solicit for business. Y'know, asking their not yet dead customers what size coffin they'd like."

Charlie gave Bellamy a strange look as they entered the waiting area.

"Where you come up with such odd thoughts in your head, I'll never know."

Inside was brightly lit and warmer than expected considering that it was December. The office was small: a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked carpet, framed notices and awards cluttering the walls, and an over-sized clock ticking over the door. The room was cut in half by a counter that stretched all but two feet across the way, positively covered by wire baskets full of papers and brightly coloured flyers taped to it.

There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was being manned by a plump, red-haired woman wearing cat eye glasses. She looked around her late thirties with a dumpy air about her that made those around her feel overdressed.

The woman looked up as the door opened and stood to her feet in alarm when she saw who was there.

"Chief Swan!" she exclaimed. "Is something wrong?"

"Not at all, ma'am," Charlie assured her, easing Bellamy forward with a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Just here to see Bell all set up."

Her eyes alighted with realization.

"Of course, of course!"

From the way she looked Bellamy over, he had no doubt that there had been talk about him coming. Excitement was a rare commodity in small towns and no doubt they had been talking about the police chief's ex-wife that ran off with their kid for years now. Now that Bellamy had 'come home' in their way of thinking, they'd likely talk about it for years to come as well.

She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk until she found the ones she was looking for.

"I have the schedule right here, and map of the school as well."

Bellamy received the papers with a light smile and looked over what was written.

"Could you show me the best routes between classes?" Bellamy asked, digging out a highlighter from his hoodie pocket. "I'm not really one for directions."

"Of course, sweetheart! Now, your first class is _here_ and. . ." She traced out where to go as soon as he was to leave the office. His locker location was marked with a star and emergency exits were circled as well. When Bellamy nodded his understanding, she handed him a slip of paper for the teachers to sign that he was supposed to bring back at the end of the day.

"And that's you all set," She finished. "I hope you like it here in Forks, dear."

Bellamy smiled, nodded amicably, and followed Charlie out the door. The rain had let up and now it was only a light misting.

Now that he was looking, Bellamy could see the section of the parking lot that was obviously meant for students. A gaggle of old-fashioned cars and trucks were scattered at the other end of the lot, closer to the forest. Park tables and benches were occupied by teenagers hanging out before class.

"I don't know why you refuse to let me get you a truck," Charlie complained, eyes alighting on the vehicles on the other side of the lot. "Boys your age usually beg for their own car."

Bellamy glanced up from where he had been scanning over his map again.

"I've told you like a million times, Dad: Cars pollute, and trucks do so even worse! If I have to involve myself in something that requires driving, I'll carpool to reduce the damage."

"It's a long walk home," the older man countered, not willing to concede the point.

"And I've got a skateboard," Bellamy shot back, tapping on said board that was currently strapped to the backside of his bag. "Jeez, man, have a little heart for those trees, they keep this place looking pretty as well as gifting us with the very air we breathe, you know?"

Charlie sighed. He'd never gotten anywhere when Bellamy got started on his save the planet tirade.

"Alright, fine, no truck. How about a bike instead?"

Bellamy lit up and grinned.

"A bike would be _awesome!_ If you get me a mountain bike, I could go off-road as well!"

"Alright then, how about this?" Charlie crossed his arms. "You get through today without getting yourself into trouble and I'll get you the best bike we can find in town."

"You're on!"

"Shake on it?" Charlie stuck out his hand.

Bellamy looked at the hand and snorted. He made a fist and held it out.

"Welcome to the new age, Mr. Swan. Forget your handshakes, we're sealing the deal with a fistbump."

* * *

**C**lasses were both less and more intense than those he had taken before. On the one hand, Forks just gave off a more laid-back feel when it came to academics, not surprising really when one considered that most of the students were likely to take up the family business and never move away; the reality of small town living. One the other hand, more eyes were looking on the individuals since there wasn't exactly a lot of them. Classes were smaller so teachers were less likely to forget a student and their progress. On top of all that, for Bellamy personally, they all looked on him as if he were some mystical creature from beyond the horizon, expecting him to be special and superb in every way.

It was getting to the point where he was contemplating cartwheeling down the halls just to somehow be worthy of all the staring. He'd likely break his neck but peer pressure was a bitch.

No, _no!_ He would _not _succumb! Screw them all! They had no right to expect things from him as if he were some gimp sent in to obey their every strange fantasy. If a person was meant to cater to other people, their body would have just been born without a soul. None of those background characters were going to have any influence on him; Bellamy would regard them the same way one would regard a cardboard cut-out; mildly interesting for how well they were detailed, useful for their intended purpose, but ultimately one would wonder why someone would leave them strewn about the hallways.

The first few classes were a study in boredom. English had been first, and after the initial gawking — from the teacher himself, no less! — there had been an eye-watering lecture on the reading list. Why the Hell was that speech not given back when classes had first started? Almost three months in and _now _was the time to comment on the reading material? The book list was uninspiring as well. Brontë sisters, Shakespeare, Chauncer, Faulkner, and the like. Bellamy was certain he had been given a similar list when he was fourteen to fifteen. His grandmother had actually given him a good half of it all back when his reading level reached chapter books; he was not enthused at not having as many new things as he had been expecting.

While grousing to himself, Bellamy couldn't help but notice that his classmates were attempting to stare at him through the back of their heads and actually were doing a damn good job of it. He had thought taking a seat in the back row would have prevented such a thing but no doubt having eyes on the back of their heads was a thing many a Forksian girl had to develop to be a proper overbearing Forksian stay-at-home mom. He idly wondered if there was still time for him to gain such a skill for himself.

A greasy looking Asian kid bum-rushed him as soon as English was over. The bell had not yet finished its dulcet foghorn tones before the gangly boy with hair as black as a chainsmoker's cancerous lungs drew Bellamy into conversation.

"You're Bellamy Swan, right?" he asked in way that was too excited to be used for anyone short of the Beatles. He looked like the academic type.

"Ah, yes, I am," Bellamy responded, not missing how everyone within a three-seat radius turned to eavesdrop. Creepers.

"Where's your next class?"

Why the Hell did he need to know that? Bellamy wasn't certain if he wanted a stranger on questionable motives to know his schedule. Still . . .

He pulled his time table from the pocket of his hoodie.

"Government. Says building six." He spoke as lightly as he could manage, not letting his unease show in his tone or his facial expressions.

"I'm headed toward building four!" Dude, chillax. You're so eager, it's embarrassing. "I could show you the way if you want. . . I'm Eric, by the way."

Bellamy smiled vaguely, shoving his stuff back in his bag.

"Sure, thanks. Nice to meet you."

They made painfully awkward conversation all the way up to building six, Eric asking about the weather of all things and Bellamy confusing him by claiming descent from an albino when the other boy commented on Bellamy's lack of tan. Had he never heard of a joke? Was humour frowned upon?

They parted and somehow Eric's enthusiasm for all things Bellamy Swan had not yet waned. He bade Bellamy farewell, saying, "Maybe we'll have some other classes together," still hopeful for whatever reason.

At this point, Bellamy never wanted to even met another guy named Eric, let along spend more time with the one currently afflicting him.

The morning passed in the same manner; gawking, prodding, rinse, repeat. It was only in Trigonometry that the routine bent — a class Bellamy wasn't sure why he was taking since he never wanted to involve himself in anything that required the study of subjects that ended in '-etry'. Mr. Varner made him stand to introduce himself. Bellamy was pretty sure he had only said a few vague things about his reasons for moving from Phoenix, all of them perfectly innocuous, but from the way they goggled, one would have thought he had said that his mother had raised him in a travelling circus and that Forks was just a side-stop before he pursued a career in a field that the local church would frown upon.

It was exhausting to say the least and he was already second-guessing his decision to attend public schooling instead of just studying at home like always. Was it too late to call it off? The extra hours inside a classroom were starting to get to him.

* * *

**W**hen it was finally time for lunch, Bellamy was climbing the walls. Outside! He wanted to be outside! He had never been inside for so long in his life, not even when he was snotting all over the place and could barely walk. Renée believed in being outdoorsy, and even when Bellamy was supposed to be sleeping off his illness she would take him out to nap under trees. Inside was fine, but if Bellamy couldn't get some time to frolic through the grass he was going to scream.

Alas, it was not to be; a girl that was in both Trig and Spanish with Bellamy coaxed him into having lunch with her friends and her before he could make a break for it. If only he had escaped before anyone could say anything; he didn't have the heart to outright turn someone down when they asked so genuinely. Crying on the inside, Bellamy followed Jessica to the cafeteria, nodding at the appropriate times as she prattled on at him about teachers and classes.

Jessica Stanley was a girl that managed to make Bellamy feel better about himself. Here was a girl that was actually shorter than he was, standing a few inches less than his five feet four inches, even though her outrageously massive hair made up the difference in height. Her eyebrows were naturally lowered in a way that gave her a perpetually agitated look, though that was redeemed by how they emphasized her eyes when she smiled. She also had an unfortunately pointy nose which also made her look like she was crinkling it in disgust whenever she spoke that reassured Bellamy that his own oddly upturned schnauze was not as unattractive as it could have been. All it all, Jessica was a person that made one feel more confident in their appearance.

"I can't wait for you to meet everyone!" Jessica gushed. "Too bad Mike's in for tutoring, he'd love to meet you!"

After being lead through the lunch line, Bellamy was introduced to a half a cafeteria table of Jessica's friends, all of which had names that were too boring to remember. He tried, but it was really pointless when he could just call out a common name like Katie or Tyler and likely get the attention of more than one person. In any case, they wouldn't hold it against him for another few days at the very least. New kid privileges and all.

He was ready to sink into auto-pilot until lunch was over until he caught sight of another pair of people sitting down at the table with them a few seat down. Bellamy was not ashamed to admit that he double-took.

There, quietly chatting with a boy that looked like he was on the fast-track to be an accountant, was a bespectacled Asian girl of unusual height, her skinniness making her look even taller. She was dressed unassumingly in a way one would picture a library-aide to be dressed and had her wavy hair tied up in a ponytail, though she twisted strands of it to the front in a show of nervousness. Normally, Bellamy would write her off as a nice but too-shy-to-be-friends-with girl, but this particular girl had something that made her stand out: uncommonly plump lips that curved up naturally.

Attractive lips that Bellamy was very familiar with.

"Angie?" said Bellamy, surprise filling his tone. He leaned over the table with wide eyes.

Aforementioned girl looked up at the uncertain word. Her eyes widened as well when she saw who it was that had called her name.

"Beau?!" the girl cried, drawing the attention of those who sat near her since it was the loudest they had heard her speak.

"You two know each other?" Jessica asked, looking between them curiously.

"Well — yes, of course — " Angela stuttered. She stood from where she was sitting and the boy that was sitting next to Bellamy — the Tyler previously mentioned — shifted out of the way to make space for the girl that appeared to not care in the least bit that she almost sat on him. Getting right in Bellamy's face, she said, "_You're _the new student?"

"Yes!" Bellamy said, not understanding the skepticism. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

"I didn't know your father was Chief Swan! I didn't even know you had family here!"

"What, did you think I was raised by wolves and just wandered into town one day?"

"_Well . . ._"

"Angie!"

"What did you expect? You came bounding out of the woods half naked, covered in more dirt than I knew could stick to a person, and climb up a tree as fast as a squirrel. I thought you were the missing link!"

"Whoa!" said the boy Angela had been talking to before she got distracted. He peered at them from around Tyler. "Can we get the story behind this or is this a private conversation?"

Angela flushed as Bellamy snickered.

"We met back before junior high," she explained. "I was watching my brothers at the park when Beau came out of nowhere, scaring the crap out of us! We hung out together all time before wild-child here" — here Angela whack Bellamy over the head — "up and left, leaving not even ten minutes after telling me that we couldn't play anymore. Something about spending summers at grandma's house instead?"

"Well, how else should I have told you?"

"I don't know, maybe give me a few days notice instead of _minutes?_"

"But then we would have been sad instead of having fun!"

Those seated near them looked on in awe at their bickering. Earlier, they had been mightily impressed by Jessica for being brave enough to have introduced herself to Bellamy on her own. Now that Angela revealed that she had been friends with Bellamy for some time now, her coolness meter had shot through the roof.

"And what's with this hair?" Angela eventually asked, grabbing hold of the long tail. "It's so much longer than before!"

"Ooh, I was wondering about that!" Jessica chimed in, eyeing the braid appreciatively. "It's _totally_ cool. You really pull it off too!"

"First my dad, now you," Bellamy lamented, not bothering to pull the braid back as the girls crowded around, oohing and aahing over the style that they'd never seen before. "I grow it out for charity but it gets real annoying when it's not up, so a girl I used to have Spanish class with taught me some braids. Honestly, Ange, you talk like you've never seen long hair before."

"It only came down to your shoulders before, of course I'm going to say something about it. I barely recognized you!"

"Are you saying I look bad with long hair?" Bellamy asked, affecting offense.

Angela rolled her eyes.

"I'm _saying_ that when I see long hair, I don't automatically think b— Wait!" She sat up straighter in her seat, making the girls chattering over Bellamy's head pause as well. "That's another thing! You told me your name was Beau! Everyone's been going on about a Bellamy Swan. What's _that_ all about?"

"Beau's a nickname from my middle name that my dad calls me." Bellamy shrugged, nibbling on a carrot stick. "I've always associated being called Beau with Forks so I introduced myself that way. It's no big deal."

"But your first name's Bellamy? What cruel parents would do that?"

"Bellamy is a super pretty name!" a girl called Katie said, looking offended on Bellamy's behalf. "There's nothing wrong with it!"

"That's right," Bellamy added, nodding in gratitude at Katie. "Lots of people have been name Bellamy, men and women all over the world. There's nothing wrong with it."

"I didn't mean to imply there was something wrong with it," Angela sighed. She put an elbow on the table and rested her chin on her fist. "I'm just saying that it gives people the wrong idea!"

They looked at each other in confusion, not understanding what Angela was trying to say.

"What wrong idea?" Tyler asked.

"Yeah, what d'you mean?" Jessica agreed.

The Asian girl huffed.

"Well, since Chief Swan mentioned his kid moving in with him, everyone's been talking as if Beau was a girl!"

Uncomprehending silence struck those within earshot.

Bellamy slumped where he sat and sighed.

"Oh, this again, huh?"

"WHAT?!" a pretty girl that had been sitting silently since Bellamy was introduced — Lauren maybe? — yelped. The cry of disbelief was echoed by the others once they were jolted out of their stupor.

"You're a boy? Tyler asked, sounding oddly heartbroken and disturbed.

Bellamy looked up and scowled a bit in annoyance.

"What's with all this surprise? I'm not exactly cross-dressing, am I?" He waved a dismissive hand at his low maintenance outfit.

"B-b-but you're so pretty!" Katie said, shaking her head.

Bellamy blushed a bit but maintained his frown.

"What, any guy not attractive in the traditional way isn't really a guy?"

"Prove it," said the boy Angela had been talking to. Eyebrows shot up at his words.

"Ben!" Angela cried, looking incredulously at the boy. "What are you talking about?"

The boy crossed his arms.

"I doubt I'm the only one finding it hard to believe that _this_," he waved a hand at a pouting Bellamy, "is a guy. Who's to say you two aren't just pulling our legs?"

"He doesn't have to prove anything!" Angela protested, pulling Bellamy closer to her as if to protect him. He ended up with his face pressed into her chest.

"How would you expect me to prove it anyways?" Bellamy muffled from the safety of Angela's boobs. Wow, she was a lot squishier here than before. "Boy or girl, I can't exactly drop my pants for everyone to see."

Ben's face twisted in embarrassment, obviously not having thought it through before making his demand.

"Someone could check you for boobs?" Katie suggested, sitting down next to Bellamy and watching his face with fascination.

"Lots of girls are flat-chested," Bellamy countered, starting to have fun with the situation. Let's see 'em dig themselves out of this one!

"Someone could . . ." Jessica said hesitantly, gesturing vaguely in the direction of Bellamy's crotch. The girl's face was bright red that was soon mirrored by those around her when her meaning reached them.

Bellamy looked at her in a vaguely impressed manner. Not many people would go straight for the crotch-grab.

"I don't think I'm familiar enough with you to let you touch my junk 'for science'."

"Can't we just accept Beau's a guy without molesting him?" Angela asked plaintively.

"No!" Tyler cried suddenly, looking resolute. He had been mute with misery as they argued back and forth. "I won't accept! No guy looks like that, it's biologically impossible!"

Bellamy huffed, crossing his arms.

"You're going to have to accept it; I _am _a guy. You can ask my dad himself."

"See, see?! That's way too cute to be coming from a guy!"

Bellamy looked at him with askance.

"Bro, you're starting to get weird."

"He's got a point though," Ben said, shrugging his shoulders.

Bellamy tossed his hands up exasperation.

"You know what? I give up; think whatever you want! I don't care anymore, call me a guy or a girl at your own discretion."

"No guy would be okay with being called a girl," Ben said, smirking at Bellamy. Angela sighed and shook her head, giving it up as a bad job as well and eating her lunch.

"Oh, really? Balls to you, then!" Bellamy's lip quirked as Ben sputtered at him and rolled his eyes away from the table. Honestly, these people were so into gender boundaries, he wouldn't be surprised if they accused a tomboy of a being a guy as well.

As he surveyed the cafeteria at large, his eyes glanced over a table not to far from where he was sitting. At first Bellamy thought the school was into strange art, adding realistic statues to decorate the cafeteria. A more direct look revealed that what he had seen was _not _a weird centerpiece but actually students themselves.

There were five of them. They weren't talking nor were they eating, though they each had a try of untouched food in front of them. This was what had initially made Bellamy think they were statues, that and the fact that they didn't move at all. It was like they were ripped out of some wet-dream, each one of them breathtaking. How could such perfection exist? It was unreal!

Bellamy was sure his mouth had fallen open at bit as he took them in. Dude, the big guy was like a modern day Viking! The hell were his parents feeding him? He could have been an advertisement for steroids!

"Shut up for a minute," Bellamy said, glancing back at his new friends. "A more important matter has come to my attention. Who brought the three servings of X-rated man-meat for lunch?"

Eyes shot to him and widen at his words. Bellamy paid them no mind, already going back to his admiring.

"I don't usually swing that way — the only mildly date-able guys I've ever met before would have gotten jail-time for looking in my direction — but in this case, I find myself in a frame of mind that I could easily be persuaded into bending my taste for babes. No doubt others would be willing to bend a lot more than just their tastes for that dishy beefcake over there. The blond and the copper-top ain't half bad either."

"Bellamy Swan!" Angela gasped, smothering the laughter that escaped her with her hands as she tried to shush her friend. They were sitting not too far off from where the Cullens were sitting and Bellamy was _not _being at all subtle in his speech. A few of them actually looked up as well.

Tyler and Ben gaped like fish as the girls giggled their agreements.

"Those are the Cullens and Hales," Jessica giggled. "The Hales are the blondes."

"Don't encourage him!" Angela scolded.

Bellamy sent the Asian girl a look.

"Don't tell me you don't agree with me! Don't you see those freakin' _abs?_ Christ, you could grate cheese on those bad boys or even do your laundry by hand!"

"Beau, they can _hear you_!" Angela hushed urgently, torn between hilarity and social mortification at so shamelessly discussing the physical appeal of another person. She flushed face heated further when she saw that the Cullen in question was shaking in laughter along with Alice Cullen while the two other boys and the Hale girl looked like they weren't sure how to react.

"So what if they can? I doubt I'm saying anything they don't already know. That mountain of muscle has probably had enough panties thrown at him to open a lingerie store, a few harmless compliments from a dude only passingly interested shouldn't phase him."

"Please stop," Angela moaned. "Don't think I'll ever be able to show my face again after this."

Bellamy took pity on his mortified friend, and patted her arm.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop. You shouldn't be so sensitive though. I really doubt anyone is going to take my behavior as a reflection of you; you're too much a preacher's daughter."

"Don't use my father being a Lutheran minister as a way to absolve me from fault. You are the company you keep."

"With that logic, I'd be a hermaphrodite police officer that teaches kindergarten and married a baseball player."

"Just shut up, Beau."

* * *

**L**unch ended with Angela ushering Bellamy out of the cafeteria, new friends calling out their farewells as they went. After discovering that he was actually a guy — or just potentially a guy if Ben was to be listened to — the girls had become a lot warmer with him. The Lauren girl that had giving him hypothermia with the chill of her stare had thawed enough to cuddle him for a bit when they started passing him around as if Angela had brought her new puppy to school. Bellamy might have been bothered if it wasn't for the fact that he had gotten up close and personal with many a set of pillowy boobs. Totally worth it.

When they entered the Biology classroom, Angela introduced him to the teacher, getting him to sign the slip of paper Bellamy had to return at the end of the day.

"Nice to meet you, Bellamy," Mr. Banner said as he scratched out his signature. "I've heard good things about you so far."

The pair then split since Angela's table was already occupied by other person and the only other spot was next to the youngest Cullen boy. Normally, sitting next to such an attractive boy would be a treat, but in this case Bellamy only wished he was allowed to sit on the floor next to Angela.

The copper-haired boy was rigid in his seat, as if someone had forcefully shoved a rod up his rear and not in the fun way. He stared at Bellamy as if he was the reason AIDs was a thing and wanted nothing more than for Bellamy to die in a fire.

If he glared any harder, Bellamy thought. He just might get his wish.

Bellamy gingerly sat down and wondered if he had heard what Bellamy had said earlier at lunch and was terribly offended on his brother's behalf. Bellamy could respect that, but that didn't stop the fact that he could almost feel his skin blistering under such a burning gaze.

The lecture was on cellular anatomy, something Bellamy had already learned about, and so unfortunately so he couldn't distract himself by taking in new information. He went through the motions of taking notes but he remained painfully aware that the Cullen boy sat stiffly as an executioner at the gallows the entire time.

Bellamy couldn't help but let his eyes dart to the side every now and then to affirm that, yes, the other boy was still as forbidding as an avenging angel purging humanity of the wicked. Bellamy also couldn't help but notice that without his burly brother catching the eyes, he didn't look nearly as slight as he had before. His forearms were surprisingly hard and muscular from what Bellamy could see with how he had his sleeves rolled up. Perfect for strangling a person, Bellamy noted.

It was incredibly odd; the boy didn't appear to even be breathing, he was so rigid. Was this normal behavior for him? Maybe his parents should look into anger management classes; such murderous intent directed at a stranger couldn't be healthy.

Bellamy idly wondered if he should have updated his will before he left for school that morning. He hoped someone would help his father with his grief when Bellamy was found dead from being eye-lasered.

As Bellamy was making peace with his god, the bell rang. Cullen was on his feet before Bellamy knew what was happening, making the small boy almost fall out of his seat if fright. With his nerves frazzled from Cullen's ire and being so shocked right in the middle of accepting his fate, could anyone really blame Bellamy for next reaction?

The pen Bellamy had clutched in his hands was driven forcefully in the closest surface it could reach when Bellamy jumped. That surface ended up being Cullen's thigh.

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry!" Bellamy gasped, tears of fright and horror misting his eyes.

Cullen leaped back, clutching the pen, knocking other students out of the way. There were cries of alarm and Mr. Banner bustled forward, concern written all over his face.

"Edward, let's get you to the nurse's office immediately!"

"No, no!" Edward Cullen croaked, his words tight and raspy. He pulled out the pen from the hole in his pants and revealed that it was completely bloodless. "I'm fine. It's alright."

Mr. Banner breathed a sigh of relief that was echoed by everyone in attendance.

"Alright then . . . I . . . I suppose you're free to go."

Cullen nodded tensely before escaping the room as if a rocket was strapped to his butt.

"Move along!" Mr. Banner said sternly when the other students stopped to gawk at the shuddering Bellamy. The clamored out but discussed it loudly all the same.

The Biology teacher took in the sight of Bellamy almost fainting on his feet and sucking on the inhaler he always had in his pocket.

"Let's get _you _to the nurse's office, then. Your father was very direct when he told us that he wanted you looked at immediately after an attack."

Bellamy let himself be ushered from the classroom, head spinning.

"I'm really sorry, sir. I-I didn't mean to!"

"I doubt anyone ever means to casually stab another person with a pen," Mr. Banner assured him. "Rest assured you're not in trouble. I would advise you to get those reflexes under control though."

Bellamy could only nod helplessly.

* * *

**AN: **Eff you if you don't like my humor. If you weren't prepared for situations to be mocked, you shouldn't be reading a fic by a person with a pun as a username.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN**: Hello, all. Here's that chapter many of you have been biting at my ankles for.

Oh, and sorry to the dude whom I told that this chapter would be up by Thanksgiving. I was completely earnest in my intentions, but I hadn't realized how close Thanksgiving was when I replied to you, nor did I actually have the amount of free time I was expecting because I got roped into extra work at the last minute.

**Also**: I don't know if any of you have noticed, but in this story, Bellamy arrives in Forks a month or two before book-canon (since it didn't tell us a specific day). This was for no other reason than because I wanted Bellamy to spend Christmas with his daddy.

**P.S**. It's been a damn long time since I posted the first two chapters, so you might want to refresh your memory of them before continuing with this one. Keep in mind that it had to be pretty damn good if you chose to follow it even though the story only had two measly chapters and no promise of continuation. C:

* * *

**I**t was unsurprising that Bellamy's father was not at all pleased when he heard what had happened on Bellamy's first day of school.

"Didn't I tell you to not to get yourself in trouble?" the older man grumbled. Despite his grizzling though, he didn't actually seemed too upset with Bellamy. He sighed. "Well, I can't say I wasn't expecting something to happen. Suppose I should be happy it was only a pen; it could've been a scalpel."

Bellamy grimaced at the thought.

"If the school ever gives us actual knives in Biology, I'll personally stage a sit-in," said Bellamy. "Not only because it would make me more of a danger to myself and others, but because I don't want any involvement in anything that would require me to use a knife. Besides, I think I've already proven that that the pen is indeed mightier than the sword."

Despite how he was trying to play it off, Bellamy really did feel terrible about the stabbing. Edward Cullen might have been a serial killer in the making, but he hadn't actually done anything beyond giving Bellamy Medusa-eyes; he had done nothing to deserve a shanking. Of course, Bellamy hadn't meant to hurt him, but that didn't change the fact that the thigh-stabbing had resulted because of the glaring.

Charlie was more perceptive than one would've thought and took pity on Bellamy.

"Well, you managed _most_ of the day," he mused, glancing over at his wallowing son. They were in the cruiser again since Charlie didn't want Bellamy exerting himself anymore that day so had picked him up from school. "Considering I was expecting worse, I suppose you can still get that bike you wanted."

Bellamy perked up at that.

"Really?" the boy squeaked, stars in his eyes. Then he deflated a bit. "Ah, but . . . That would be rewarding me, wouldn't it? I dunno if I'd feel right getting a present after hurting someone. Kinda callous, y'know?"

Charlie sighed through his nose. They turned a corner and he nodded politely at a little old lady that was waving at him.

"Look, Beau, I'm not getting you a bike because you stabbed that Edward kid. There's no question about it that you didn't mean to, and God knows you'll beat yourself up about it more than anymore else could. You're getting the bike because I think you've earned it. You haven't had formal schooling in years, and I don't doubt being inside all day's been driving you crazy; you're too much your mother's child for it not to get to you. Honestly, I was expecting a call before the morning was over that you had some sort of panic attack or something and had to go to the nurse."

"You worry too much," Bellamy admonished, nudging his father's shoulder. "I'm not some wild animal, y'know. Yeah, I was starting to crawl the walls, but it's not like I was going to freak out about it. I'm pretty sure I've never had a panic attack before either."

"Doesn't mean I can't worry about it," said Charlie. "The point is that you did better that I'd've thought. And if that isn't good enough for you, I really do think you need something better than a skateboard to get around on."

Bellamy spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in a state of distraction as he went through the motions of doing homework, fixing dinner, and emailing his mother. His attention was divided between thinking about all the things he could do with Angie; feeling guilty about Cullen; wondering what kind of bikes the nearest sporting goods store would have; feeling guilty about Cullen; wondering if Forks High had a school orchestra; and feeling so guilty about Cullen that he decided to bake something as an apology.

Maybe he could bake a pie? Small-town folks liked pie, right? But maybe that would be patronizing, implying that they would like pie just because they were small-town folks. Patronization would not be the way to go if his objective was to apologize, they would likely become more offended if that were to happen. Maybe cake then. Ugh, why did dessert-deciding have to so difficult all of a sudden?

"Dad!" Bellamy called down from the top of the stairs. "What baked good best says, '_I'm sorry for maiming you; please, don't sue_'?"

"Marshmallow and peanut-butter fudge cake," Charlie answered without missing a beat or even looking up from the TV.

Bellamy perked up. He trotted down the stairs into the kitchen and got a handful of bills from the jar of food money Charlie kept on the counter.

"I'm off to the store!" he called as he toed on his shoes and picked up his skateboard. "Hope you don't mind cake for breakfast tomorrow."

Bellamy woke up early the next morning to have time to bake the cake he had prepped for the night before. It wasn't anything that you'd see on the cooking channel, but it had two layers, was generously iced with homemade frosting, and wasn't burnt in the least bit. It was hardly a masterpiece — it was made by a teenage boy after all — but if Charlie was to be believed, it made up for its lack of finesse by the fact that it was a _marshmallow and peanut-butter fudge cake._

"How are you going to carry all that to school with you?" asked Charlie, eying the teetering Bellamy with a wary eye. He was standing at the door of his police cruiser with his arms crossed.

The boy in question had his cake — in a cardboard cake-box — in hand as he guided his skateboard down the drive-way. His messenger bag was on the trunk of the cruiser and his cello — that had been moved from its obscenely bright red hard-shell case to a black-cloth one that had it resembling a guitar — was waiting on the ground at his feet.

He grinned at his father and gave a thumbs up. He said, "Like this."

Bellamy put the cake on the trunk and hung his bag across his shoulders to rest against one hip. He then picked up his cello and slung it across his back before tightening the strap so the instrument rested securely against him. Finally, he picked up the cake again in one hand and sauntered back to his skateboard, nonchalant as could be.

Charlie snorted.

"You look like a traffic accident waiting to happen."

Despite Charlie's doubts, Bellamy actually made it safely to school. He met up with Angie and her friends at the outside lunch benches where he passed the time before first period. In between his conversation with his best friend about Forks' non-existent orchestra and the bikes at Newton's Sporting Goods, he bragged about the cake he had labored away at to bake that morning.

If Cullen didn't forgive him after receiving a _muther-effin' marshmallow and peanut-butter fudge cake_, Bellamy would stop feeling guilty immediately, because that would mean Cullen had no soul and was not a real person.

* * *

"**I**'m not trying to be all unsupportive or anything," Bellamy grouched, eyeballing the gaping Eric Yorkie, "but I've got a real problem with dudes starin' at me when I'm getting naked. If you want to come out and embrace the rainbow, you're going to have to find another guy; you're not my type."

Eric turned the color of a slapped ass and turned around so fast that he nearly fell over. Pulling on a fresh shirt, Bellamy watched Eric in askance as the fluster boy babbled apologies.

What a weirdo.

The rest of the week after the stabbing thing was uneventful. With Angie at his side as well as a buttload of new friends, Bellamy quickly got used to the routine of his classes. By Friday, he was able to recognize, if not name, almost all the students at school, not that _that_ was a huge achievement with how small the school was. In gym class, he had managed to keep from actually participating because of a doctor's note his father had sent along with him. Instead of potentially killing everyone through a creative use of his feet and floor polish, Bellamy got to yoga it up in a safe corner away from the rest of the class.

The only irksome detail was the fact that Edward Cullen had yet to come back to school.

Seriously, was such a long absence even allowed? Who misses over a week of school willy-nilly? Was he dying in a hospital somewhere from tetanus despite the fact that the pen didn't actually injure him? Had he decided a school with Bellamy in it wasn't worth attending?

It was pretty arrogant to assume that the Cullen boy was missing school because of Bellamy, but Bellamy couldn't help that the thought lingered in the back of his mind. Mike Newton (Jessica's _one twue wuv_) had mentioned that he had never seen the other boy so harsh looking before, so it must have had _something _to do with Bellamy; people didn't just up and disappear for no reason.

Every day since his failure to avoid injury to himself and others, Bellamy had watched the cafeteria doors covertly until the rest of the Cullens came in for lunch, wondering if it would be the day that Tall, Pale, and Broody returned so that Bellamy could apologize. And every day Bellamy was thwarted. Oh, sure, he had given his apology cake to the dark-haired Cullen girl when his victim didn't arrive the first time, but it wasn't the same. Such things needed to be done one-on-one and in person.

Following the disappointed realization, Bellamy would then join in on the lunchtime conversation. Mostly it centered around a trip to the La Push Ocean Park in three weeks that Mike was putting together. It was originally going to happen in January, but Mike and his boys decided that it would be a good way to end the term before Christmas vacation. Bellamy had been invited of course, but he was leery of how much fun a wet and cold beach-front would be. He had been embracing the fashion of the Eskimos since he had arrived because of the on-an-off snow, but he couldn't imagine being able to enjoy the water when it was cold enough to ice-over a wooly mammoth.

Bellamy had anticipated more of the same that day, being the second Monday since he had started school.

He had been greeted in the parking that morning by more or less everyone he passed. He didn't know all of them personally, but he waved back and smiled at everyone all the same. It was a lot colder that morning, but thankfully it hadn't started raining — He had left his umbrella at home that morning and had been wary of getting flash-flooded on since he had realized it. Of course, that didn't stop him from fretting over his school bag getting soaked when it inevitably happened that the sky decided to take a piss on him. Maybe he should invest in water-proof book covers?

When he had walked out of his third class, Mike and Tyler in tow, the air was full of swirling bits of white. All around, he hear people shouting excitedly to each other. It took a moment for Bellamy to realize why as he got hit in the face with a strong gust of chilly wind.

"Whoa!" Mike had exclaimed, bounding forward. "It's snowing!"

No shit, Bellamy thought as little cotton fluffs were building up along the sidewalk and swirling erratically past his face. It was beautiful, but he had never biked in the snow before and he couldn't help but worry that he'd be in for a hard time getting home later.

Any further contemplation on his potential transportation troubles was disrupted by what felt like ten snow-cones of nip-hardening, junk-shrinking _COLD _being dumped down the back of his shirt.

The high-pitched shriek Bellamy emitted was later confirmed to have been heard three blocks away.

"_You mother-hugger!_" He squeaked furiously at Tyler, doing the equivalent of an Irish jig crossed with a striptease in his attempt to remove the snow from his person.

Mike was bent in half, guffawing into his knees, a hand held up blindly in Tyler's direction for a high-five. Unfortunately for Mike, any commemorative bro-ing out was prevented by a big, squishy ball of dripping snow smacking Tyler right in the kisser at the same time that Mike himself got one to the back of his head.

As Tyler sputtered about snow in his mouth and nose, Mike and Bellamy turned to see where the second snowball had come from. Bellamy was no genius but even he had his suspicions about 'Hi, I'm Eric!' Yorkie, who was conveniently walking away, his back towards them — in the wrong direction for his next class if Bellamy remembered correctly.

Mike was apparently at the same level of not-a-genius-but-no-fool. He bent over and began scraping together a monster of a pile of the white mush.

"Well, that's not suspicious _at all_," Bellamy said flatly, squatting down for his own mound of snow.

The resulting snowball fight ended with what looked like half the school engaged in modern warfare in the parking lot, a broken window courtesy of a football somehow being added to the mix, and the original instigators of the battle with three days of detention each — minus Bellamy who evaded punishment by effectively donning his Police-Chief's-kid innocent face.

Throughout the rest of the morning, everyone had chattered excitedly about the snow; apparently it was the first snowfall of the season, something that had been greatly delayed this year. Bellamy walked alertly to the cafeteria with Jessica after Spanish, snowballs still flying everywhere. He kept a thick binder in his hands, ready to use it as a shield or even a weapon if necessary; he wasn't about to get caught off guard with another bout of snow down his shirt. Jessica thought it was hilarious, but something in his wide-eyed expression — and likely the fact that he actually had smacked a snowball back into someone's tits with aforementioned binder earlier — kept her from lobbing a snowball at him herself.

Mike caught up to them as they walked through the front doors, ice melting the spikes in his hair as he laughed and caught the two by their arms and swung them around. On his tail were Lauren and Katie, drunkenly leaning on each other as they snickered, snow dotting them as well. The five of them ended up talking animatedly about the snowball fight as they got in line for food.

Bellamy glanced toward the corner table out of habit.

And then he gaped openly where he stood.

Unbelievably, there were five people. Five people at the table. _Not_ four. Not even four and some idiot trying their luck like that last time Bellamy had so cruelly had his hopes risen!

Sullen Cullen had returned!

Jessica then pulled on his arm, yanking from where he had been holding the line up.

"Hello? Bell?" she said, pointing at the food available. "What do you want?"

"_Justice_," Bellamy breathed, still cow-eyed.

Jessica snorted and flicked his nose.

"They don't serve that on the lunch menu. How about a taco salad?"

"Ooh, they have extra guac too if you want it, Bellamy!" Katie chimed in, holding up a serving of the avocado sauce.

Bellamy was then distracted by guacamole.

He only returned to his original train of thought halfway through his burrito when Angela arrived and he caught sight of the Cullen crew behind her as he glanced up at her.

Oh! Right! Heartfelt penitence and all that!

"_What are you doing?_" Angela hissed, alarmed by the determined look on Bellamy's face as he got to his feet. "What have I told you about making a scene?"

"Christ, I'm not gonna re-enact a soap opera or anything," he griped, pouting down at the hand she had latched onto his forearm.

"You might as well!" she retorted, sliding her hand down to his wrist and tugging more insistently.

"Wha's duh deaw?" Mike asked in confusion around a mouthful of taco. "Yuh go' be'f wi' duh Cu'ens?"

"Why does everyone think that?" Bellamy sighed. "Of course I don't! I've never even talked to them properly! I just want to apologize is all, is that too much to ask?"

"Didn't you give them that cake already?" asked Ben as he crossed his arms. "I thought you said that if he wasn't cool after receiving that cake then you were going to stop being sorry because that meant he was as soulless as his ginger hair branded him."

If there was spluttered choke from the direction of the Cullen table, none among Bellamy's crowd heard it.

"Well, yes," Bellamy agreed, "but it wasn't my unintentional victim that actually received the cake, was it?"

"Oh, my God, Beau, just let it go!" Angela implored, chancing a glance at the victim in question. "I don't think Edward's the type to hold a grudge over an accident, and if nothing else his family must have already told him that you said sorry. Please don't go over there; I'll be morally obliged as a friend to go with you, and I don't think I'll be able to survive the mortification of being center stage with you as you shamelessly display your lack of brain-to-mouth filter."

"Oh, fine," Bellamy finally conceded, plopping back down and returning to his burrito. "I'll wait until Biology then."

It should have gone without saying that Biology didn't go anywhere near the way Bellamy had wanted it to.

Upon first entering the classroom and noting that the table he sat at was as empty as ever, Bellamy felt the most irritating cross of relief and resentment. He was in the middle of brooding over how much a person had to hate him to actually skip a class to avoid him when Cullen actually did show up, all pretty voice and unruffled nonchalance, as if he _hadn't _all but threatened Bellamy with a dissection blade the last time they had sat next to each other.

This blatant ignoring of their past interaction put any thought of apologizing right out of Bellamy's mind and reintroduced the conviction that he would die that day.

It was freakishly opposite of how the Cullen boy was before, and any pleasant atmosphere he might have been trying to create was ruined by the fact that Bellamy watched enough horror/slasher films to know where such a story-line usually went. In fact, the way that Cullen was obviously trying to lull him into a state of calm made Bellamy think that Cullen was eventually going to go full Silence of the Lambs on Bellamy's cute little ass, whether Buffalo Bill style or Hannibal the Cannibal not yet decided.

Once again, Mr. Banner was of no help. Seriously, did the West Coast teach on a slower-paced curriculum or something? Bellamy had done this lab last _year _as a part of the online Biology course he took as a part of home-schooling.

"Ladies first, partner?" Cullen then asked.

Bellamy looked up to see the other boy smiling a crooked smile so beautiful that Bellamy could only stare at him like an idiot.

God damn, _mother huggin'_ . . .

"Or I could start, if you wish." The smile faded, Cullen obviously wondering if Bellamy was mentally competent.

"No, I-it's cool," Bellamy said, flushing with embarrassment and helpless irritation. "I'll go ahead, but, um, y'know . . . I'm a dude actually . . ."

Cullen's didn't say anything or show any expression in response, but Bellamy knew that air of 'WTF? Srsly?' well enough that he knew the other boy was speechless with . . . well, speechlessness.

Fuck Cullen. Fuck the whole fuckin' world.

Well, at the very least Cullen would likely be dissuaded from trying to make a female skin suit out of Bellamy now that he knew Bellamy was a guy. Or . . . Actually, did genitalia even matter when trying to make a woman-looking skin suit? Was crotch included in such a thing? And if it was . . . did that mean Bellamy's potential skinner would wear Bellamy's shaft on top of his own shaft? Did Buffalo Bill have his wang sticking out of his girl-suit's girl parts when he wore it?! Did that count as necrophilia?!

In the middle of Biology with his potential murderer was an odd time to be thinking of sexual deviation that included the desecration of a corpse. Bellamy really needed to stop binging on horror movies.

Cullen then laughed a soft, enchanting laugh. Bellamy wouldn't have been surprised of a cherub was birthed into existence because of it. Or maybe a demon imp. That was a more likely thing since Cullen was ticking all Bellamy's devil-in-disguise checklist.

"Sorry," Cullen said, the picture of contrite, as if he _hadn't_ just not so openly gaped in disbelief. " '_Bellamy_' is usually a girl's name, so I had just assumed."

Oh, he was good. He was _very_ good. As if it wouldn't have been obvious with anyone else what their physical sex was based purely on appearance. Bellamy decided to concede gracefully to keep face.

The two of them worked in silence for the most part after that, only muttering their answers for the lab so the other could write it down as well. For all that Cullen _obviously _was up to _something _with his bizarro 180º in personality, he wasn't pushy about it. The class would have ended more or less peacefully if it hadn't been for a last minute fiasco.

As students were cleaning up their stations, Mike — who was seated at the table next to Bellamy — knocked his glass slides from the table, leading to them shattering on the floor. The noise startled Bellamy badly, making him jump and tumble from his stool towards the glass.

Bellamy had a split second to accept that he was going to be scratched up at the very least when quick hands caught him before he could make contact with the broken glass.

Unfortunately — and most embarrassingly — because of the disparity of height, those hands that should have latched onto his middle had caught him around his chest, resulting in the unfortunate double-handed groping of what would have been his boobs — y'know, if he had boobs.

There was a beat of pause in which everyone present collected themselves and then —

"_Eeeeeeek!_" Bellamy shrieked. (He _shrieked _thankyouverymuch! _Not _squealed!) He then shoved Cullen off — because who else could it have been? — and darted towards Mike, seeking safety between him and Angela. Bellamy then all but climbed into Angela's lap and clung to her as he gaped wide-eyed at his molester.

There was then quite a bit of sputtering and awkward hand motions. Bellamy had the impression that that was the most ruffled and embarrassed anyone had ever seen Edward Cullen if they had ever seen him anything less than perfectly composed before. Bellamy might have felt more sympathy if he hadn't just been felt up by Cullen's ice-cold hands, resulting in the second time his nipples had been unconsensually hardened that day.

Which was why Bellamy was now snapping at the over-eager Eric Yorkie for yet again eyeballing him without invitation.

Bellamy closed his gym locker with a louder than usual _snap_, glowering at the other guys who were still hanging around that had been snickering over Eric's less than subtle observation. Or it could have been the fact this was the first time that Eric had seen him change before or after gym and he had actually appeared shocked that Bellamy was indeed as tit-less as the rest of them.

Fuck Eric Yorkie. Fuck the whole fuckin' world too!

* * *

**AN:** I feel like this is a bit shorter than the previous two chapters were, but I honestly didn't think the chapter could have been drawn out anymore than it was. There was story progression! There were LOLs! (At least _I _think there were . . .) Anyways, yeah, hopefully this story will be getting more attention from me. I honestly do like and it's fun to write a fic just for lulz and fluff as opposed to my more serious stuff.


End file.
